“Eighteen households have received help,” she told me. “Because of your gift, they’ll have a more secure start to the new year.”
I felt grateful.
But I also wished I’d understood Renee’s situation sooner.
On Christmas Eve, Lily sent me a message.
Grandma, why aren’t you coming tomorrow? Dad said you’re busy.
I explained that I’d be helping serve Christmas dinner at the center where Grandpa Walter used to volunteer.
Her reply made my eyes fill with tears.
But who’s going to hand out the presents?
That evening, I baked my traditional pecan pie anyway.
I used my mother’s old glass baking dish, the one Walter used to joke was older than both of us.
On Christmas morning, I dressed in jeans and Walter’s red flannel shirt.
At ten o’clock, I arrived at Westdale.
The dining hall had been decorated with paper snowflakes, little Christmas trees, and colorful tablecloths.
